


The 9th Annual Hunger Games

by espetrell



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Hunger Games AU, yeah they die at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:50:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espetrell/pseuds/espetrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are picked as District tributes for the Hunger Games. Enjolras wants to undermine the Games. Grantaire will stay with him until the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 9th Annual Hunger Games

"I volunteer as tribute!" The words stuck in his throat from fear, but Grantaire called them out all the same. His little sister had one foot already on the platform where the tributes to the Hunger Games stood, and Grantaire could not bear to see her there. The crowd parted to let him through, heads turning as he ran past. He got there just in time to kiss her on the cheek before a Peacekeeper came and dragged her away. Trying not to hear her tiny voice shouting his name, he climbed the steps to the platform and gave a joyless smile to the woman from the Capitol that had called her name.

"My name is Grantaire. I'm her brother," Grantaire said clearly before the Capitol official could ask. She gave him a huge grin, showing off too-white teeth. "How interesting!" She cooed, turning back to the shocked audience. "Since we've already chosen a male tribute," she continued, pointing at the scowling blonde boy at her side, "Does this mean we have two male tributes? It appears so!"

Grantaire knew the blonde boy well. He also had a very good idea of why the boy was scowling (besides the frustration at being tribute, of course). Grantaire gave him a thin smile. "Hello, Enjolras," he murmured over the Capitol woman's nattering.

Enjolras turned his glare towards Grantaire. This glare was very familiar to Grantaire - it had often been thrown at him when he had been messing around in the back of the classroom (when he had still gone to school). Grantaire was of the opinion that Enjolras was even more attractive than usual when he was scowling, but he had rarely seen him smile so he couldn't be sure.

"Hey," Enjolras answered shortly, eyes now fixed on the Capitol woman. Grantaire saw that he did not want to chat, so it was only later, on the train ride to the Capitol, that the conversation began again.

"Why did you take your sister's place?" Enjolras asked abruptly. Grantaire, who had been absorbed in an exotic food the Capitol woman called "pizza," looked up in surprise.

"Um," he said around a mouthful of cheese, "Well, I don't want her to die. Sounds like a good reason to me."

"She might die anyways, you know," Enjolras said as though it was obvious, which it absolutely was.

"Of course," Grantaire snapped, "But I'd rather her maybe dying of hunger at home than certainly being murdered by some Career."

Enjolras wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought, but seemed satisfied by the explanation. Grantaire felt like it was his turn to ask an uncomfortable question, so he said, "You know, they picked you on purpose."

Enjolras at first did not deign to respond beyond a small nod. His parents had not been part of the insurrection that started the Hunger Games in the first place, but it was well-known throughout District 9 that Enjolras had smuggled weapons to the revolutionaries, even though he had been barely past school age.

Then, to Grantaire's surprise, Enjolras turned to look at him in the eye and said quietly, "They won't let me win."

"No," Grantaire answered, even though it hadn't been a question. The train thundered on, the two tributes sitting in silence.

 

\----

 

It was in the training rooms that Enjolras began to make allies. The first were a pair from District 6 that came up to Enjolras while he and Grantaire were practicing knife throwing. Grantaire could see that though Enjolras was a surprisingly accurate thrower, his heart wasn't into it, and he eagerly turned as a tall girl in glasses came and tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're Enjolras, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. "I'm Combeferre. I've heard about you."

"What have you heard?" Enjolras asked in a hushed voice. Grantaire began asking the teacher detailed questions about knife-throwing to distract him from the whispered conversation taking place behind him.

"Courfeyrac and I were wondering if you'd like to continue what you started when you were a kid."

"Nice to meet you, call me Courf. Do you have a plan?"

"I do. But it's...would you put your life on the line?"

"I'm probably going to die anyways, I might as well make a statement."

"Good, excellent." Then Grantaire lost track of their words. He finally distinguished Enjolras asking, "How can we spread the word?"

"Do you want everyone?"

"Yes, or as many as possible."

"If even one person doesn't follow your plan..." Grantaire inwardly cursed, realizing that he missed the explanation of the plan itself.

"I know. But what else can we do?"

A sigh. "I'll see who I can talk to."

"Thank you, Courf, Combeferre." Silence, then Grantaire felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Enjolras standing alone. The District  6 tributes were gone.

"Let's split up. Go try something new. Unless you want to know more about knives," Enjolras said, and Grantaire laughed.

"No, I'm good," he answered, and wandered over to the weight-lifting station. Looking across the room, he saw Enjolras talking to a long-haired tribute testing themselves on poisonous plants and knew that Enjolras had started a campaign.

 

\----

 

That night, Grantaire was getting ready for bed when Enjolras entered, walking with purpose.

"What is it?" Grantaire asked uneasily. Enjolras gave him a confused look before noticing that Grantaire had been about to put on a shirt.

"Oh, sorry," Enjolras said without much remorse, "I was wondering how much you heard from our talk this afternoon."

"Don't you think they have microphones in here?" Grantaire asked instead of telling him, pulling the shirt over his head. He could practically hear Enjolras rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Grantaire, in our bedrooms? Cameras probably, but..." Enjolras went quiet for a moment, probably realizing that Grantaire was right, then continued in a lower voice, "We still need to talk."

Grantaire sighed resignedly and told him, "I know there's a plan but I don't know what it is. I can guess, though."

"Look," Enjolras began, "I want to show the Capitol that they don't own me. I don't want to play their game."

Enjolras scowled again, noticing Grantaire's quiet snort of derision, and said, "You don't believe in rebellion."

"I don't see how it could help," Grantaire responded, "If we all get ourselves killed, the Capitol still rules and my sister back home still starves. What difference can a couple teenagers make?"

"All the difference in the world," Enjolras said, voice dripping with fury. Glaring at Grantaire, he spun on his heel and left. As he closed the door behind him, he gave Grantaire one final angry glance and said, "Think about it." Then he slammed the door, leaving Grantaire alone.

 

\----

 

"Agh, your hair is a mess," tutted the stylist as he tugged at Grantaire's curls with a comb. Grantaire had always hated watching the chariot procession on television and he hated being a part of it even more.

"Are you going to be putting me in a deer costume, sir?" Grantaire asked, his crabbiness clear in his sarcastic tone.

"Call me Montparnasse," the stylist said calmly, "And no, I'm not that uncultured. It's hard to come up with good ideas for the hunter District, but I'm just doing something simple for you boys."

Montparnasse reached into a closet and pulled out a leather jacket.

"Oh," Grantaire said in surprise, "That's not half bad."

"See? Have faith," Montparnasse chuckled, pulling out the rest of the ensemble, mostly leather but with some fur trimming. "Just a couple minutes more and you'll be done just in time for the procession to start."

When the stylist finally finished with him, Grantaire burst out of the room, only to bump into Enjolras, who had been standing right outside the door.

"Woah," Grantaire could not stop himself from saying, stepping back to take a good look at Enjolras. Their outfits were almost identical, but while Grantaire's made him look passable, Enjolras' elevated him to a nearly angelic level of beauty. Grantaire licked his lips and hurriedly continued, "You look good. Ready to go?"

Enjolras grimaced and tugged at his costume. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"This way," a Capitol official yelled at them, pointing in the direction of a black chariot. Grantaire hopped on, Enjolras right behind him. There was only time for the stylist to call out a final "Heads up, bright smiles!" before the chariot started to move and the procession began.

Grantaire hadn't seen Enjolras since he had stormed out of Grantaire's room in a huff the night before. So when Grantaire turned and asked, just loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowds, "What's your plan?" he expected Enjolras to silently glower at him. Instead, Enjolras continued smiling photogenically at the crowd, pointed at the chariot in front of them, and said, "The girl there is Bahorel. Strong as a mule and eager to go down fighting. Keep looking straight and wave." When Grantaire complied, he continued, "District 11 has a boy called Jehan. You saw him at the plants station yesterday. Two from District 10, Joly and Bossuet, talked to me this morning. Neither think they can make it through the first day. They want to join us too."

"Join in doing what?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras looked at him appraisingly for a second, then answered without any trace of emotion, "The Capitol can't have their fun if we're all dead. So we kill ourselves quickly before they can watch us die slowly."

Grantaire's stomach sank, but he kept his grin pasted on his face and asked, "How?"

"You've seen how the Games begin," Enjolras said, "All the tributes stand on their platforms for thirty seconds to scope out the terrain and find what they want in the Cornucopia. If they step off before..."

"Blown up instantly," Grantaire finished quietly, "Not a passive action and an easy way to die." A good idea, but he didn't want to say so. "Elegant," he said instead. This earned him a quick smile from Enjolras. "How many are in?"

"Eight confirmed," Enjolras answered, watching Grantaire carefully. Grantaire sighed and shook his head.

"It's a ridiculous idea that has maybe 0% chance of working. And maybe you don't, but how many of these tributes have families to take care of at home? Most, if not all."

"Are you in or not?" Enjolras hissed.

"Of course I'm in," Grantaire said, giving in and allowing himself to watch a real smile, not fake but glowingly bright, spread across Enjolras' face.

 

\----

 

On their last day, Enjolras and Grantaire stood by Montparnasse in more reasonable clothes waiting for the pod that would take them up to the arena. Their smiling stylist, and everyone except the select tributes, had no idea that the beginning of the Games would also be the end for those that had agreed to join with Enjolras. Neither Grantaire nor Enjolras knew exactly how many that would be.

"This time around, the arena is configured in a way that requires both tributes from each District to go up together," Montparnasse was explaining, "The Capitol reasoned that it wouldn't be in your interests to immediately kill your District-mate."

Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged a wary glance. If one tribute stepped off their platform, both might blow.

"Are you afraid?" Enjolras asked Grantaire quietly. Montparnasse would think that he meant something entirely different from what he was really referring to.

Grantaire shook his head, surprised himself that he felt no fear. His choice was clear.

They could say no more until they were alone together in the pod. When he was sure they could not be heard, Enjolras whispered with what sounded something like desperation, "Don't do this if you don't really believe in what we're doing."

Grantaire gave him a small, sad smile. 

"I believe in you."

 

\----

 

"30 seconds. 29. 28."

Grantaire had squinted his eyes shut when he came out of the pod into the sunlight, and he did not open them. He did not want to have to see the battleground he would not walk on or the other tributes that would die there.

"25. 24."

A small "oh" from Enjolras at his side told Grantaire that he had not done the same. Suddenly unable to bear it any longer, he turned to look at Enjolras.

"20. 19."

Enjolras' eyes were alight with rebellious fervor.

"18."

Those beautiful, bright eyes turned on Grantaire.

"Enjolras?"

"17."

"Before we... I wanted..." But Grantaire could not put to words the feeling that twisted inside his gut, so he fell silent.

"15. 14."

There was no time. They were to step at 5. Grantaire watched Enjolras desperately, and realized that Enjolras was watching him with the same sorrow.

"I know. Me too," Enjolras replied gently.

"10."

"Do you permit it?" Grantaire asked, so quietly that his mouth barely moved. Good. The cameras would not be able to catch the words.

"8. 7."

Enjolras did not, or could not, answer. Instead, he took Grantaire's hand firmly in his and together they stepped forward.

"5."

BOOM.

**Author's Note:**

> Not making Montparnasse the stylist would have been a serious crime.


End file.
